Not sure about the Russian next to him, Pape looked at the major for a few seconds, then grunted. "Okay, you're the expert." After which he shifted his weapon to the right.
Fifty meters below Ilvanich and Pape, another battle was being waged. In this one the Americans also held the upper hand, a fact that Biryukov could not ignore. The fight, for him and his small detachment in the assembly chamber, had been a disaster. Coming out of the smoke, the enemy had been among his positions before his men had gotten a shot off. At point-blank range the Americans had all but wiped out Biryukov's command. Only the quick thinking of one of his sergeants saved Biryukov from dying in that first rush with the rest of his men. Not that salvation was going to last long. Unable to move because of a wound that laid most of his side open, Biryukov sat with his back to the wall looking at the elevator doors that led back up to the assembly chamber. Only he, Sergeant Popel, who had dragged him into the elevator, and one other man made it to the lower storage chamber. Though the elevator was locked, Biryukov could hear the Americans working on the other side, preparing charges to force the elevator doors on their level. They had time, but not much. Once the American demolition team was finished, they would have to climb out of the elevator shaft before setting off their charges. After that everything would go fast. First, if they were smart, the Americans would drop grenades to clear the shaft and area by the door. Then the assault force would rappel down on ropes to finish Biryukov and his tiny command before they had recovered from the grenades. It was simply a matter of time before the Americans seized the weapons he was charged with guarding, unless he did something.
Looking down the long corridor to his right, Biryukov turned his mind away from the coming fight. Yes, he thought, it would be quick. Though some of the attackers would surely die this time, there was only so much that his two men could do. The Americans, Biryukov knew, had come too far to stop. They would gladly fill the elevator shaft with their dead in order to seize the warheads that sat in the chambers on either side of the long corridor. That the Russians had somehow gotten the naive Americans to do their dirty work didn't surprise Biryukov. His father had always told him that while the Americans acted like cowboys, they thought like boy scouts. Looking back at Popel, Biryukov coughed, spitting up small clots of blood. "If they do not hurry, I fear I shall miss their grand entrance."
The sergeant, his face betraying no emotion, nodded. "It shall not be long, Captain. I believe that they are climbing back up the elevator shaft. Once the demolition party is cleared, they will set off the charge. Then…"
In the silence, the soldier crouching next to the elevator shaft looked at the sergeant, then at Biryukov. His young face was contorted with fear and apprehension. He, like Biryukov and the sergeant, knew they had no chance. Still he refused to believe it. In his youth he refused to believe that there was no way out.
Coughing, Biryukov looked down the corridor again, then back at the sergeant. "Suppose, Sergeant, we decide not to cooperate with the enemy's plan?"
The young soldier piped up, "You mean we should surrender?"
Biryukov shook his head. "No. I doubt that they would be willing to take our surrender even if we were willing to offer it. After what happened up there, they have blood in their eyes." Biryukov paused, glancing once more down the long corridor before he continued without looking back at Popel. It was quiet, terribly quiet, like a tomb. "We must initiate the self-destruct sequence."
Popel didn't answer at first. Looking back at him, Biryukov forced a smile. "It is, Sergeant Popel, time to put your treasonable knowledge to use." Biryukov took his bloody hand away from his side and stretched it out. "As you can see, I cannot do it myself. I need your help, Sergeant." A spasm of pain went through Biryukov's body. Grabbing his side again, Biryukov forced himself to stifle a moan. When he could speak, Biryukov pleaded. "Please, Sergeant, hurry. We do not have much time. Do not fail me."
At the other end of the elevator shaft, Captain Smithy leaned over the open shaft, yelling to the last of the engineers struggling up the ropes to get a move on. This was taking too long for Smithy. The whole operation was not going the way he had wanted it to, and it was starting to piss him off. The gunfire from outside, barely audible to most of the men in his company that were in the assembly chamber, only served to increase Smithy's anger. Turning to the platoon leader standing next to him, Smithy blurted, "Why in the hell did those yahoos have to take the elevator down to where the warheads were stored? Geez, why couldn't they have used the other one? They really screwed this up." Smithy looked down the shaft and mumbled again, "They really screwed this up."
The platoon leader, not knowing if his company commander expected an answer, merely shrugged. How had the Ukrainians' action screwed up the operation? As far as the platoon leader could see, everything was in hand. They had cleared the upper chamber at the loss of one dead and three lightly wounded men. The initial portion of the Ukrainian reaction force was taken out by the rest of the company without any problem. And in a few minutes, after the elevator doors at the far end of the elevator shaft had been blown open, all they had to do was dump a few CS tear-gas and smoke grenades down the shaft, slide down the ropes, and clean up any Ukrainians who were still down there. The young platoon leader looked down the elevator shaft, then over at his commander, now pacing back and forth a few feet away, wondering what possibly could be wrong.
The attack by the second BTR had caught everyone, except Ilvanich, by surprise. No one had heard its approach. Even the riflemen along the chainlink fence with night vision goggles failed to see the second part of the reaction force as it advanced up a gully to the right of the road. Only when a hail of 14.5mm rounds began to smack into the cinder block guard shack did the men of 1st Platoon go to ground and begin to search their assigned sectors in earnest.
"TO THE RIGHT. BTR WITH DISMOUNTED INFANTRY COMING UP ON OUR RIGHT."
As if to underscore the warning, a hail of small-arms fire flew over Pape's head from the direction of the gully that Ilvanich had pointed out to him. Looking over to the Russian, Pape saw that Ilvanich had his assault rifle up and was preparing to fire. "Son of a bitch! You were right!"
Ilvanich did not respond to Pape's comment. He only issued instructions to the surprised American. "Remember, you are shooting downhill. Aim lower than you normally would, otherwise your rounds will go harmlessly over their heads."
Turning back to his front, Pape prepared to fire. "Yeah. Aim low. Got it."
While Pape and Ilvanich were preparing to engage, First Lieutenant Zack climbed out of a rear window of the guard shack, which was still being chewed up by 14.5mm bullets from the BTR, and low-crawled over to the entrance of the tunnel where the company's 60mm mortar section was beginning to go into action. Excited and upset by the sudden attack, Zack urged the sergeant in charge of the mortar section to get a move on and start firing. The sergeant ignored Zack as he continued to direct the men manning the two 60mm mortars. Only when they were ready did the sergeant order his mortars to fire. With his right ear covered by the radio's hand mike, and the index finger of his left hand stuck in his left ear, the sergeant listened for corrections from the 1st Platoon, shouting orders when he got them.
When he heard the sergeant yell to his mortar crews that they were on target and to start pouring it on, Zack relaxed. Standing up, he brushed away the dirt and fragments of cinder block that covered his parka. There was nothing, he thought, that he needed to do at that moment. Turning, he looked down the long tunnel and wondered how his commander and the rest of the company were doing. He was about to begin walking down the tunnel to find out when the earth beneath his feet began to tremble. Believing that the Ukrainians were bringing up tanks, Zack turned away from the tunnel to walk away.